Genesis Mandeville Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Half Way Tree

Last week, right, I’m in a tavern, tankard in hand, scopin’ the room. This bird—red lips, skirts hiked up—winks at me. I’m thinkin’, “Tyrion, you clever bastard, she’s yours.” But nah, she’s got a pimp, uglier than Gregor Clegane, breath like a latrine. Pissed me off—why’s everythin’ gotta be so complicated? “Be quiet and do what I say,” she whispers, like I’m some green boy. Cheeky cow! I’m the Imp, I know tricks she ain’t dreamed of. Paid her double just to shut her gob and get on with it. Felt good, though—coin well spent.

Justice, Integrity & Service

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But then, outta nowhere, this dude walks in. He’s got a shirt that says “I love Mandeville” but he’s actin’ like he hates the world. He starts complainin’ about the prices. I’m like, “Bro, you think I set the prices? I’m just the butcher!” But he keeps goin’. I’m tryin’ to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, chill. It’s Mandeville, not a supermarket in Kingston.”

Krewe of Eve Parade rolls in Mandeville, but without cars for the first time